Today was the middle day of the three consecutively warm sunny days that tantalised us with the notion that Spring had truly arrived, and judging by the activity here today it had a lot of our wildlife fooled too. The sky was clear and that almost-unbelievable shade of deep blue, the birds were singing and best of all, it was warm!

WOODLAND PATH

A few metres along the Woodland Path of my patch is an untidy-looking stretch, divided by the narrow path, where missing trees have opened up the canopy, letting in the light and warmth of the sun. Somewhat mysteriously, it holds great allure for diverse species of insects, some of which at certain times can be found here in surprising numbers. At the right time on the right day, ten minutes spent in this ‘hotspot’ can be as productive as two hours spent ranging over the rest of the site.

11:44 Today I was here at the right time to see a surprising amount of insects. Most prolific were hoverflies in all shapes and sizes from big and bulky to teeny-tiny and dainty.

Eristalis sp hoverfly

Syrphus sp.

There were few flowers here for nectaring upon, so that wasn’t the attraction for the majority of the hoverflies; I caught just one on the tiny flowers of Dog’s mercury. There were dozens of this small black and yellow striped species here, all very fresh and shiny and mostly basking on the sun-warmed leaves of brambles and nettles.

One side of the ‘hotspot’ is open to sunlight, clear of trees but sheltered by those standing behind it and by large shrubs of laurel and holly on either side. A large tangle of bramble fills the gap in the vegetation and is the only barrier between you and the Expressway below at the bottom of an almost-vertical slope. (Only joking, there’d be plenty of trees to stop you if you fell!) On the other side is a large patch of nettles, the aforementioned Dog’s mercury, more bramble and a pretty patch of periwinkle, all growing through a ground-covering of ivy.

Periwinkle

Dog’s Mercury

A lone Tree bumblebee flew in, visited a couple of the periwinkle flowers then stopped to bask on a last-year’s half-eaten bramble leaf. I think it was a male (no pollen baskets) and was looking a bit the worse for wear. He seemed to have a burden of mites and I wondered if exposing them to warm sun might dislodge them. I’ve seen birds do that.

A smaller bee caught my eye as it came to rest on an ivy leaf. I didn’t realise what it was until I saw my photograph, then was excited to see it was a Hairy-footed Flower Bee, this one a male and my first record of this species here.

Hairy-footed Flower Bee – Anthophora plumipes (male)

Hairy-footed Flower Bee (m)-Anthophora plumipes

A species common and widespread in much of England and Wales, especially in towns, cities and villages. Often nests in the soft mortar and exposed cob of old walls, but occasionally will nest in the ground, preferring bare compacted clay soils. Flies from late February to mid-June, and is particularly partial to Lungwort (Pulmonaria) flowers.

Males and females look very different from one another: the female resembles a small, black bumblebee with orange-red hairs on the hind leg and a rapid-darting flight; she’ll often approach a flower with her long tongue extended. Males are mostly brown with a dark tail (fresh specimens are gingery). Cream markings on face distinguish it from all bumblebees.They are often among the first bees of the year to emerge and often hover in front of flowers and when pursuing females.

Another little bee came to rest on a nettle leaf, this one I recognised as an Ashy mining bee and another male.

Ashy mining bee – Andrena cineraria (male)

Ashy mining bee (m)-Andrena cineraria

A distinctive and obvious spring-flying solitary bee. Females are black, and have two broad ashy-grey hairbands across the thorax. Males emerge well before the females. They look similar, but their thorax is entirely covered with less dense grey hairs, and there’s a pronounced tuft of white hairs on the lower face. Species has a single flight period each year from early April until early June. Nests are constructed in the ground; entrances are surrounded by a volcano-like mound of excavated spoil; often in dense aggregations in lawns, flower beds, mown banks and in field margins.

And where there are mining bees there are those who would prey upon them….. Bee-flies: quirkily-cute in appearance but not good to know if you’re a hard-working mining bee; they’ll spy out your nest-hole and craftily kick their eggs inside with those long legs, then later their hatched larvae will feast on yours.

Bee-fly-Bombilius major

Wasps were out on the prowl too; I didn’t get a clear enough image to tell if this was a German or Common Wasp – the latter have a distinctive anchor mark on their face; this image is a bit fuzzy.

12:07 I could have lingered longer, but birds were singing, I’d been serenaded by a Song thrush and a Robin as I stood watching insects, Blue tits twittered on all sides and I was keen to see what else was happening.

Bluebells are beginning to flower and offer nectar to those that can reach it, there’s also Greater Stitchwort and lots of Dog Violets. A male Orange-tip butterfly raced past me over the bluebells and through the trees, clearly on the trail of a female and not stopping for an instant.

Greater Stitchwort – Stellaria holostea

There are masses of glorious glossy golden yellow lesser celandines shining in the sunlight too.

I stopped to admire the celandines lining a section of the path and not at all concerned by my presence, a Blue tit perched above me and began to sing.

Beneath him dozens of shiny new flies arrived to bask on soft sun-warmed new bramble leaves.

There’s one special spot I know where Wood Anemones light up the woodland floor like fallen stars, turning their faces to the sun

and another where those of the shamrock-leaved Wood sorrel shyly hide theirs.

Over the boundary fence, the formidable thorny boundary hedge of gorse and blackthorn is softened now with their fragrant gold and white blossoms.

I heard a bird singing, a short loud burst of notes that I thought at first was a Wren, but it wasn’t quite right. I’d forgotten that another tiny bird, the Goldcrest also has a disproportionately loud song, remembering when he broke cover and flitted about in shrubbery in front of me. He wasn’t going to oblige me with a photograph, much too busy! So I stood gazing upwards for a while – you can’t get too much beautiful blue sky…

… or pretty blossom, can you?

WOODLAND TRAIL

12:58 There’s another hotspot around the junction of my Woodland Path with the reserve’s Woodland Trail, this one for birds. Here there is a territory of both Blackcap and Chiffchaff so there is the possibility of hearing if not seeing both species here. Today I was lucky; I heard the Blackcap’s song as I approached and walking slowly and as quietly as I was able I spotted him. He continued to sing but moved restlessly through the branches as I got nearer then flew off across the other side of the track.

While he sang from behind foliage over there I watched a pretty female Tawny mining bee feast on Blackthorn blossom.

Then the Blackcap came back to where he’d started, so I think perhaps his red-headed mate may be on their nest somewhere close by.

This gorgeous gorse is below his singing tree. It would make a safe place to nest and the flowers would attract insects for dinner.

I had heard a Chiffchaff singing nearby too but was pleasantly surprised when he appeared, continuing his song while flitting about amongst the twiggy branches searching for insects.

13:21 Further along the trail I spotted a flutter of orange – a lovely fresh Comma butterfly basking on dry leaves at the edge of the path. As I watched it moved, (look away now if you’re squeamish) onto a thankfully dryish dog poo deposit. I had to take the picture as it nicely presented its underside showing off the distinctive white mark for which it is named.

The disturbed ground of the pathsides supports some of the ‘weedier’ wildflowers like dandelions which provide important nectar when there’s not much else in flower.

You’d be very unlucky not to hear and see a Robin singing along here, there seems to be one at regularly spaced intervals. They sit and watch out over the track then dart out to pounce on any potential prey they may spot. This one had been singing but stopped to watch me.

I waited to see if he’d start singing again and was distracted by a bird whistling loudly. I scanned around searching for whatever was making the sound, one I didn’t recognise at all but that sounded to be being made by quite a large bird. After a few minutes the whistler appeared and to my amusement turned out to be …. a Great Tit! Of course it was, one of the basics of birdsong recognition is ‘when you don’t recognise it or haven’t heard it before, chances are it’ll be a Great Tit’; they have an incredible repertoire of sounds to call upon. I was thankful to him for keeping me in that spot though, as this gorgeous Greater Spotted Woodpecker flew onto a tree trunk literally right in front of me.

The Woodpecker stayed there, keeping a watchful eye on me. This bird is a female and is holding something small in her beak, so I imagine she has a nest nearby and was unwilling to reveal it. I moved away quickly, thanking her for the photo opportunity as I did.

Great Spotted Woodpeckers are about the same size as Starlings. Their plumage denotes their age and sex. Juvenile birds have red foreheads that are replaced by black as they moult in the autumn. Adult males then have a red nape while females have no red on their head at all.

The Lesser Celandines have been late flowering this Spring but are glorious now and more prolific than I’ve seen them before. It’s not just the flowers that are prolific, so too were hoverflies and Bee-flies seemed to be everywhere.

Approaching the entrance to the meadow another Robin, which looks as though it is singing, but was actually ‘ticking me off’, let me know it didn’t appreciate my disturbing it.

THE UPPER MEADOW (ADDER’S FIELD)

The grass of the meadow was cut back hard last autumn and so far there’s not much happening there yet, but the grass is beginning to grow and the cowslips are starting to come out. They’ll be later on the more exposed ‘downland’ side of the hill.

Another Bee-fly settled on an exposed rock in the pathway, fluttering its wings rapidly and making flicking movements with its legs as they do when depositing their eggs, but there was no sign of a mining bee nest anywhere near, so not sure what it was doing.

Summer Rainfall Prediction:

If oak is out before the ash, there’ll be a splash ; if ash is out before the oak there’ll be a soak…

Keep the brollies handy, looks like ash is furthest on so far….!

Wriggling across the still-damp ground on the way to the Summit Trail was an earthworm. Double jeopardy came to mind – exposure to warm sunshine and hungry birds; foolish worm.

Last year I noticed spots along the trail here where Mining Bees were making nests. having seen a few about today I kept an eye out for more signs of their activity and spotted these little ‘volcanoes’, evidence of their presence. I waited a while but no bees showed, so I don’t know which species had made them, but I think maybe Tawny Mining Bees.

THE SUMMIT

It was cooler and breezier up here. I walked carefully, hoping there may be Small Tortoiseshell butterflies basking on the bare earth of the path, but not today, although I did see two busily chasing one another at speed as they disappeared over the edge of the cliff.

The mountains and the distant Conwy valley were veiled by a misty haze.

The blackthorn is smothered with blossom and looking beautiful. It will be interesting to see how much of it gets pollinated and develops as fruit this autumn. Sloe gin comes to mind.

Blackthorn – Prunus spinosa

The path back down to the Woodland Trail felt almost bridal with falling petals showering down onto the ground like confetti. A pretty way to end this account of a lovely walk.

As I’ve already said, it was mighty windy out here on the not-quite-summit of the hill; not the day for hanging around gazing at the views, no matter how stunning they may be.

Windswept not-quite-summit of Bryn Euryn

A quick look around showed there to be little left in the way wildflowers in bloom, but there was colour on a wild rose – a whole colony of bright red Robin’s Pincushion galls. I don’t recall ever having seen as many on a single plant. The fuzzy growths will gradually fade to brown and the little wasps that cause the growths will emerge in June. If I’m lucky, one of these days I’ll catch them coming out, although the galls also attract ‘squatters’ and there can be a dozen or more species lodging in there!

I was to keen to keep moving, but when I spotted this lovely patch of Eyebright I couldn’t resist stopping again.

The dip between this part of the hill and the slope up to the summit is usually sheltered and offers a brief respite from the wind and the noise of traffic from the A55 below, but not so today. Yarrow likes this spot and there was quite a good large patch of it still in flower here. As with Eyebright, Yarrow is a plant designed to withstand tough growing conditions and is pretty persistent, as anyone that has tried to eliminate it from a lawn will testify; you cut it down and it grows right back! Personally I prefer the ferny-leaved Yarrow to the boring grass! Funny how we discriminate against certain plants, this wildflower Yarrow’s taller-growing golden-yellow flowered relative, Achillea, is a cherished garden plant!

Some insects rather like its flowers too, I found a tiny bee motionless on a flower today and recalled I’d seen a similar looking insect on Yarrow in the Rhiwleddyn reserve a few weeks ago.

Tiny bee on Yarrow – enlarged

On the summit a patch of purple Knapweed was fuelling a few Common Carder bees that were managing to cling on and fly short distances despite the best efforts of the wind to dislodge them. The little bees had varying appearances; some were practically perfect, others a bit more battered, their ‘fur’ worn away and at least one that had a bleached appearance like it had spent too long out in the sun.

Common carder bee-practically perfect

Common carder bee-a little faded

Common carder bee-fur worn from back

Common carder bee-bleached

There was another lovely clump of Eyebright up here, this one framed by the distinctively-arranged pods that give the Bird’s-foot trefoil its name.

More Yarrow too, this plant sheltering a tiny fly.

I was hoping that the other side of the hill would be a bit more protected from the wind, but alas, most of it wasn’t. The sun was putting in sporadic appearances though, so at least it felt a bit warmer. Ironically, the sea looked to be calm, was coloured in shades of beautiful blue and its surface merely ruffled. The blades of the wind turbines were motionless.

Looking over in the opposite direction to te sea, the view to the oddly-shaped hill at Deganwy, was fairly clear, although beyond it, Anglesey and the Menai Strait were shrouded in a light haze. I’m not sure if I’ve mentioned it before, but the hill is named the Vardre and gets its unusual appearance from having two rocky summits. It has a little less height than Bryn Euryn, it being 108m, (354 feet) while the Bryn is 131m (365 feet). It was once home to fortifications that included Deganwy Castle.

On the woodland edge leaves are beginning to change colour. Hawthorn is one of the first to go

along with Silver birch as I mentioned in the previous post. Out here in the open it was easier to appreciate the combination of yellow leaves against a clear blue sky.

Next to the Silver birch is a single Whitebeam, which bears berries. The berries are orange in colour now but will gradually turn red.

In the short grass there are still a few Rock-roses in flower and here and there are big fat ‘penny-bun’, or Bolete mushrooms. At least they would have been big and fat before they were nibbled away. I like the different shades and textures such nibbling has left on this one; there was a little black spider on it too.

I have often wondered what nibbled the mushrooms. A picture I took a few weeks ago, at the end of July may have the answer. The sight amused me and I wondered if it was a romantic al-fresco lunch for two? Of course there is more to slugs than meets the eye. No gardener is ever going to welcome them onto their plot, but out in the wild they are another important cog in the wheel of the natural waste-disposal system. Although one slug may look rather like another, there are rather a lot of different species of them in our British Isles. I submitted this image to the very helpful folk that run the Slugs and Snails of the British Isles Facebook Group, who responded that to be accurate they need to see the undersides of the slugs too, but from other features that it is likely they are juvenile Arion flagellus – the Green-soled slug.

poss. Arion flagellus- the Green-soled slug

The bottom of the grassy ‘downland’ hill was still flowery with Hemp Agrimony, Knapweed, touches of Scabious and a sprinkling of Ragwort.

I walked down to where it meets with the woodland edge and lo and behold, for a few glorious minutes the sun came out. Suddenly it was warm and bright and the scene came alive with a whole host of insects vying with one another for the best blossoms.

Speckled wood on Hemp agrimony

I hardly knew where to look first, but then couldn’t resist the sight of a pristine Speckled wood feasting on Hemp agrimony. There were several of them, all looking freshly beautiful; most were nectaring on various flowers while some rested on the leaves of nearby trees basking in the sunshine. The only other butterflies in evidence were Red Admirals which unusually stayed out of range of the camera.

Speckled wood on ragwort

There was a good variety of hoverflies,large and small, a Common wasp and more Common carder bees too.

Hoverfly – Eristalis sp

Hoverfly – Eristalis sp

Hoverfly-Helophilus sp

Common wasp

Common Carder bee on Scabious

Volucella zonaria

A beautiful cast of insects, but the star of today’s show was a big handsome hoverfly, which surprisingly doesn’t have a common name, but whose scientific name, Volucella zonaria makes it sound a bit like an Italian pasta dish. This is the largest British hoverfly and is quite a recent addition to our native list, appearing on the south coast of England during the late 1930s. According to my Hoverfly bible, from there it has spread upwards and outwards across the country as far as Cheshire and Humberside and South Wales in the West. We’re not so far from the Cheshire border here, so they must still be spreading, this is the second one I’ve seen this year, the other was in my daughter’s garden a few weeks ago.

The spell of sunshine didn’t last long and the wind was still blowing relentlessly; time to set off in the direction of home.

It is wonderful to wander through places that have been left alone and to find indigenous plants that could have been growing there for hundreds of years, or in some cases, even thousands. But areas that have in one way or another been ‘disturbed’ often bring forth species of flora and fauna not seen in areas that haven’t, as in the next part of my wander around the reserve.

Brambles and nettles threaten to take over this small, scrubby area in the midst of the reserve, but there are plants tough enough to hold their own there, one being Common Sorrel.

Common Sorrel Rumex acetosa

The tall stately Great Mullein with its large beautiful grey-green velvety leaves sometimes graces a disturbed scrubby patch. It’s a biennial plant, so flowers appear during each plant’s second year. It is a locally common plant, but its appearance in a specific area each year is not predictable; which makes it more of a treat when you do find it. Each plant usually produces a single flowering spike; one with multiple spikes may indicate that it was nibbled by rabbits in the early stages of its growth.

Great Mullein – Verbascum thrapsis

White horehound, is one of the scarcer plants to be found within the reserve. Its presence here is tenuous year on year, as it is constantly under threat of being out-competed by rampant ‘coarse’ vegetation such as nettles and brambles; its survival largely dependent upon diligent scrub-clearing and management by the reserve management team and Wildlife Trust volunteers. The plant is also found, in greater amounts, on the Great Orme.

June 2017-larva of the Horehound Moth – Wheeleria spilodactylus on foodplant

White horehound is important as it is the only food plant of the larvae of the Horehound Moth Wheeleria spilodactylus. Inhabiting chalky soils, this is a localised species of plume moth, largely confined to the Isle of Wight and a few scattered localities in Wales and Southern England. The exceptionally well-camouflaged caterpillars appeared on plants here earlier in the year when I took this photograph; they are evidence that the battle to maintain its ongoing presence is important to this species of moth.

A little grasshopper sat basking, sheltered from the wind and very well camouflaged on a bramble leaf. I doubt I’d have seen him if I’d not caught sight of him land there.

Grasshopper on bramble leaf

This is him/her greatly enlarged

Grasshopper on bramble leaf (enlarged)

Another tough plant here is the Lesser Burdock. I like the plant with its round prickly flower heads and tufts of purple flowers that will soon dry into ‘burrs’ and stick to anything that brushes against them. I approached the plant to photograph it; as I did so, I got excited to see that a little butterfly had the same idea and had only my second sighting so far this year of a perfect little Brown Argus.

Brown Argus Aricia argestis

The poor thing was fighting to stay put in the strong wind and I was struggling to keep my camera lens focussed on it. I was vaguely aware of a small fly sharing the same space on the plant as the butterfly, but was too intent on the matter in hand to pay much heed to it. It was small and yellowish and flitting about a fair bit, but at the time it didn’t click that this might be a fly I’d been hoping to find for the past few years that is a burdock specialist.

Brown Argus & Banded burdock fly

Banded burdock fly-Terellia tussilaginis

It wasn’t until the next day, when I looked at my images properly that I realised this little fly was indeed most likely a Banded burdock fly-Terellia tussilaginis and that I’d almost missed it!

At least it gives me good reason to show more images of the lovely little butterfly.

Brown Argus & Banded burdock fly

I was getting a bit fed up with the wind now but battled on towards the top as I wanted to get an image of the stunning view of Llandudno that you get from this side of the Little Orme headland. It was only when I got there I remembered that I had actually been somewhat sheltered from the full force of the wind! it was still so strong it took my breath away and I had to lean against a rock to brace myself, not only to steady the camera but also myself. Worth it though, what a view!

I didn’t stay to lingeringly admire the view, and was quickly on the way back down to seek a calmer spot. Facing now in the other direction and looking down onto the fields below I had the random sight of a male Pheasant, not a bird I see often. He was looking a bit bedraggled and was clearly limping. Had he been been shot and survived, hit by a car, or even attacked by a fox or dog? Fortunately he seemed still to be able to fly well enough.

Limping pheasant

A little further on I spotted a little splash of blue in the short grass in front of me and much to my surprise here was one of the Reserve’s special treasures – a single stem of the lovely little Spiked Speedwell. This is a plant that is cultivated and grown in gardens, but only grows in the wild in the Breckland grasslands of East Anglia and very locally in Wales and Western England.

Spiked Speedwell-Veronica spicata

A few metres away, standing a little taller, a single flower stem of Dropwort, another specialist of calcareous grassland, this one being bent almost to the ground by the strength of the wind.

Dropwort – Filipendula vulgaris

Hawthorn is one of the few species of tree that is not nibbled by rabbits or sheep in its early stages and that can also withstand exposure to the strong, salt-laden winds the headland is subject to. Most are contorted into weird and wonderful shapes, but this one, although short has grown large and spread fairly evenly.

I met up with the young Robin again on my way back down.

Young Robin

And a beautiful Comma butterfly landed on the bare earth of the track.

Comma

The sheep were where I’d left them, settled down comfortably now for an afternoon siesta in the sunshine.

Looking up from the track below I saw they were still watching me, with definite smug, self-satisfied smiles on their faces.

Onwards and upwards; a flight of shallow stone steps make a steep rocky section of the path a little easier to climb (except when it’s wet & they get a bit slippery).

Pause here to admire the views back down onto the road and the many shades of green of the fields and woodland on its opposite side.

Looking down onto the road into Llandudno

Facing around to the way I’m going, the views to the right of me, seen over a rampant tangle of brambles and wild clematis on the reserve boundary, are extensive and stunning. At once pastoral and contained and wild and open to the elements.

On the other side of the track is the biggest and best patch of harebells that I have seen for years, a truly beautiful sight.

Harebell- Campanula rotundifolia

I can’t resist sitting to watch them being blown and rippled by the wind and am captivated by their charm. For me this little flower has it all. Beautiful in colour and form, they have delicacy and fragility but also great adaptability and resilience to an often hostile environment. Each flower had turned its bell back to the wind to reduce its impact; their slender but tough and wiry stems having the flexibility to bend to the wind, not break. A life lesson in a wildflower!

There were yet more of the little beauties a little higher up on the slope contrasting delightfully in colour and form with frothy lemon-yellow Lady’s bedstraw. I clambered up rather inelegantly to take a closer look. Amongst other plants, these had grown taller and in a more sheltered spot, their bells were turned to the light rather than away from the wind.

Before going back down to the track, I take another look at the glorious view across the bays to the Clwydian Hills and with sheep where they are supposed be.

click to enlarge

Back on track there is a change in ambience and habitat. There are small trees and shrubs on the boundary with the farmland sufficient to cast shade, and the sloping ground on the other side provides a windbreak. The trees are mostly hawthorn, prevalent throughout the headland as its one of the few plants not grazed by sheep or rabbits and again, tough enough to withstand exposure to fierce salty winds.

I spot a movement and see a small Grasshopper jump onto a lichen speckled rock catching dappled sunlight; the perfect place to soak up a little warmth whilst staying camouflaged.

I round a bend in the track and see – sheep! Five naughty trespassing sheep! They are strictly banned from the reserve unless invited in as their indiscriminate grazing may damage or even destroy the rarer wildflowers that grow here. Fencing prevents them wandering into the higher part of the reserve from the rest of the Little Orme where they are not restricted, so I think they got in at this field level, no doubt irresistibly tempted by the sight of the lush long grass over here. I tell them they should return to their field, but can’t see where they may have got through and they pay me no heed anyway, just amble away showing me their bottoms.

I let them get ahead, the last thing I want to do is frighten them and send them scattering and concentrate on the patch of golden flowers I see amongst the long grass on the slope. I thought at first it may be Goldenrod as I’d seen some on the roadside earlier, but soon realised it was a Hypericum – St.John’s Wort.

Another plant with several species that share the same common name, but this is the one I am most familiar with and has all the right features to be Perforate St John’s Wort – Hypericum perforatum.

St John’s Wort-Hypericum perforatum

click to enlarge

Black horehound – Ballota nigra

I apologise, but need to digress a little here to explain the significance of my next plant. Earlier on in the summer a group of NWWT members were treated to a walk around this reserve guided by its manager, Rob and a guest expert botanist, Nigel. It was a brilliant walk on many levels and we learnt a lot about our special flora and its history, about its fauna and the trials and tribulations of modern Reserve management. Typically as on any walk, even guided group ones, I lagged behind snapping interesting stuff and in a rough bramble-and- nettle patch (in the pic above), spotted the plant to the right, which is still going strong. Yet another minty-looking one I didn’t recognise. I took hasty photographs and hurried after the rest of the group. No-one else immediately recognised it either, so Nigel suggested I email the pics to him later on so he could have a better look. From them his best guess was that it was Black Horehound, reservations having been that this was a vigorous, tall specimen of a plant that usually is, in his words, ‘much scruffier-looking’ He also mentioned it smells unpleasant, so this time I had a closer look and bruised and smelt a leaf. It definitely did not smell pleasant and as all its other important bits match the botanical specs, I’m taking that as another one to add to my list of wildflowers-I-will-know-how-to-identify in the future. (Unless anyone has a different idea……?)

It’s amazing what you can see in five minutes along a short shady stretch of track. I watched a dragonfly patrol up and down at speed, pausing only in his labour several times to ‘buzz’ me and let me know I was in his space. I was hoping he’d stop so I could at least see what he was, but no, much too busy. There was yet more mint here, and one I recognised from the distinctive scent of a crushed leaf – this is Water Mint-Mentha aquatic. A similar-looking plant is Corn Mint, but it grows shorter than this and doesn’t have a ‘terminal’ flowerhead (one that crowns the top of the stalk).

Water mint-Mentha aquatica

A fresh-looking Speckled Wood rested on a sun-warmed stone on the path

Speckled Wood

and a Red Admiral flew across to seek out the nectar of bramble flowers

Red Admiral – Vanessa atalanta

There is a farm gate here which I checked for security, but tightly closed there would have been no exit for sheep. Another great Clematis-framed view from here, considerably enhanced by the clouds I think, although they were blocking out the sun at this point.

click to enlarge

At the side of the gate another member of the Lamiceae (mints & dead-nettles) family, this one I know well, the Hedge Woundwort Stachys arvensis.

Yellow Dung Fly – Scathophaga stercoraria

I moved on and round the next bend found evidence I was still on the trail of the errant sheep; a smallish neat and fairly recent deposit of fresh dung. And where there is dung there may be Dung-flies, one of my favourite insects, although I’m not exactly sure why. Perhaps because I’m keen on recycling? As I hoped, a single male Yellow Dung Fly had laid claim to the heap of treasure and was intent on guarding it. A bit of a drama then ensued, but I’m saving that for later.

To the top

I had reached the Reserve boundary, marked by a gate through which the two marked ‘Trails’ continue on to cross the rest of the Little Orme headland. There is no marked official track up to the top reaches of the reserve from here though, so getting up there is a matter of a)wanting to; b) paying attention to where you are putting your feet; c)taking care not to slip on damp grass and d) watching out for rabbit holes.

Rock-roses are still fresh and lovely up here, as is the fragrant Lady’s Bedstraw.

I followed the path chosen by the sheep; they almost always know how to find the best way upwards. They were up there now, all standing facing the view. I may have thought they were admiring it, but one of them who seemed to be in charge, maybe the mother of some of them, was bleating loudly, eliciting a response from the field below. Was she calling to her friends telling them about the feast to be had on this side and inviting them over?

Once more I reminded them they were not welcome here, but Mrs Boss Sheep just gave me ‘the look’ that clearly said “mind your own business and what are you doing up here yourself?” Once past them it became more overgrown and not as clear where to head, but I kept going in the general direction of where I wanted to be and hoped for the best. I heard a bird making some squeaky sounds and spotted him as he perched atop a gorse bush, a speckly young Robin beginning to get his adult feathers. I realised this was the first bird I’d seen and heard so far on this walk apart from gulls and the occasional cormorant flying overhead.

I also realised it was lunchtime, so time to find a sheltered spot, take a break and sit and admire the sheep’s-eye view.

August 3rd – Weather – intermittently sunny, warm but with a very strong cooling wind.

As August began I wanted to get out to see wildflowers. This is one of my favourite times of year for that, when there is every chance that there may be earlier flowering plants still around and the late-summer bloomers should be at or reaching their best. Most of the sites I visit regularly are good for wildflowers, but as they are mostly located on hills or headlands and exposed to the elements, they would not be particularly enjoyable on a strongly windy day like today and taking photographs would be difficult. I decided on Rhiwledyn Nature Reserve, one of my favourites as it covers a range of interesting habitats within its 12 acre site and as it is located on the eastern side of the Little Orme there was a chance that much of it would be sheltered from the worst of the wind.

There are three ways to access the reserve, all of which require a bit of an uphill hike. One route is from Llandudno, another from the other side of the Little Orme, but for me the most interesting route to its main entrance is along the path at the base of a section of the Orme that runs up Penrhyn Hill. Marked as a 10% gradient, this is a steepish stretch to walk, but worth the effort as the rock supports an array of plants, both wildflowers and some garden escapees, and is a nature trail in itself. This provides me with the perfect excuse to amble up the hill and take frequent excusable pauses for breath rather than stride purposefully along.

Looking back along Penrhyn Hill towards Penrhyn Bay. The hill in the centre background is Bryn Euryn

Part 1 – Penrhyn Hill roadside to the reserve

My first sighting was of a male Common blue butterfly taking a break from his battle with the wind on the flower of a hop trefoil, low down in the vegetation. Amongst long grass and ivy, a grey leaved Yellow-wort; this is an annual favouring short calcareous grassland but is found in a variety of spots throughout the headland.

Common blue

Yellow wort-Blackstonia perfoliata

There were several clumps of a plant that was definitely a member of the mint family with strongly aromatic leaves. I don’t know what it is yet.

since publishing this Suzanne has kindly suggested in a comment that it is Common calamint Clinopodium ascendens. This is a mint that grows in dry grassland, hedgerows and verges, often on chalk or limestone soils, so habitat fits perfectly.

Common calamint – Clinopodium ascendens

And another aromatic plant – Wild Fennel, growing as tall as me, in front of gorse.

A pretty snail clung to the leaf of a Valerian plant; I lifted it gently to check the colour of its underside lip – brown – then replaced it. A few bees were braving the breeze, mostly Buff-tailed bumblebees. I photographed one on marjoram, which may or may not be a wild plant.

Brown-lipped snail

Buff-tailed bumblebee on marjoram

There is Wild Carrot in various stages of flowering from tight buds to maturing seedheads. Most often found in rough grassland, near the sea and again mostly on chalky soil. This is one of the easier of the white umbellifers to identify, with feathery leaves and bracts beneath the flowerheads and always a red flower in its centre.

Wild Carrot-Daucus carota

Windy days are not good for butterflies, but I did see a couple of Gatekeepers. Both sticking close within the vegetation, one found Marjoram to nectar on, the other attempted to bask on a Wild Clematis leaf. Both were faded and looking a little the worse for wear.

Gatekeeper on Marjoram- fruits of Herb Robert behind

Gatekeeper

A flowering Goldenrod plant sprawled out across the edge of the path.

Goldenrod – Solidago virgaurea

So too a sprawling patch of Montbretia

Montbretia

and this one with its flowers like small dandelions, which I think may be one of the Hawkweeds. Another one to work on.

A stone wall marking the boundary of the farm’s land breaks the vegetated path edge, but behind it the small field is golden with Ragwort and long seeding grass. There were butterflies in there, mostly Whites, but it’s off-limits so couldn’t get a closer look.

Trees on the edge of the small wood in the background of the photograph now cast shade over the path and its edge and there are less flowering plants. There is plenty of ivy, Wild Clematis a flourishing Wild Cabbage, more of the not yet id’d mint and a clump of the usually sun-seeking Rockrose.

Rhiwledyn Nature Reserve

Half an hour after parking my car I finally reach the entrance to the reserve. The sun is shining and a fly basks in the warmth reflected by the glass of the narrative board.

A pretty clump of Marjoram flowers at its base.

I turned left to first walk the short length of the path at the base of the headland where it meets Llandudno Bay. The strength of the wind here took my breath away and walking into it head on was a challenge, but now I’d got this far I wanted to carry on to the far end of this eastern side of the headland as far as I could.

Up on the cliff a patch of harebells gave a rare opportunity to get close to these lovely little flowers without having to lie on the ground. They look delicate and their thin stems seem fragile, but they are tougher than they look and were holding their own in today’s wind.

Spiky starry Carline thistles caught my eye. Kneeling to photograph them I see they are growing amongst bird’s-foot trefoil and that there is another little star there too – a tiny white flower of Pearlwort.

There is Yellow-wort flowering next to Wood sage which is setting seed.

Another Carline thistle, this time with Eyebright and an unwelcome invader, cotoneaster, one of the banes of the lives of hard-pressed reserve managers.

Nearby, more Harebells with a little pink Centaury and the grey felty leaves of Mouse-eared Hawkweed.

I was almost relieved to reach the end of the track and be blown back to retrace my steps to the beginning of the upward track.

First I went ‘off piste’ a little to reach a stand of golden yellow Ploughman’s Spikenard.

Ploughman’s Spikenard – Inula conyzae

Then a scramble back down to the start of the track proper. A badged wooden post here reassures you that you are officially following both the Wales Coast Path and the North Wales Path.

In these days of declining numbers of many, if not most of our butterfly species, I wonder if we will ever be persuaded to look more fondly, or at least a little more appreciatively upon our more common White ones? Might it have helped if those early entymologists and pioneer collectors had bestowed them with pretty common names, rather than the functional ones of Large or Small Whites?

The truth is, probably not. The butterflies downfall from our grace, supposing they were once in that state, coincided with our cultivation of cabbages and other related members of the brassiceae family for our own consumption. Plants that contain the stuff essential to the health and well-being of these butterflies’ larvae, as decreed by their evolution. The plants became abundant and readily accessible to the opportunistic butterflies and why would they not take advantage? They dared to invade our space though and became a serious pest, even an enemy. This is why many of us have grown up still calling both Large and Small Whites ‘Cabbage Whites’, especially if our parents grew our family’s veg. And why school cabbage often had a boiled green caterpillar in it.

Large White butterfly (male)

In 1717 James Petiver published the first book devoted exclusively to British butterflies, entitled Papilionum Brittaniae Icones. In it Petiver gave English names to a number of species, some that he made up himself. Others were taken from existing common useage, including Pieris rapis (brassicae), which he called the ‘Great White Cabbage Butterfly’ and/or the ‘Great Female Cabbage Butterfly’.

August 7th

2016 has not been the best year for butterflies in general and my collection of species photographed so far had several gaps in it compared to last year’s, two of which were reserved for the Large and Small White. A walk on the Little Orme today filled one of those gaps. I was walking around the base of the cliffs, mostly looking up as I had spotted a Raven perched on a ledge and was trying to get close without disturbing it. It flew off of course, but below where it had been was a large bramble bush smothered in late blossom. Only as I got close to it did I realise it was attracting a crowd of White butterflies; so well camouflaged against the pale flowers in bright sunlight that I hadn’t noticed them.

Female ready to mate

Male flying in

Male approaching female

Male approaching female to mate

Most of the butterflies were females, newly emerged, in need of food and clearly available to male interest. It took a few minutes for me to realise why there were so many here and where they had come from: until I spotted one fluttering around the leaf of a Wild Cabbage plant in fact! I couldn’t believe it had taken me till now to make such an obvious connection; the amount of times I have seen White butterflies here before, have noticed (and blogged about) the abundance of Wild Cabbage plants …… Oh well, I got there in the end!

The Wild Cabbage (Brassica oleracea), sometimes known as Sea Cabbage, is regarded as scarce by botanists as it is found in only 100 x 10km squares in the UK. The Little Orme and Great Orme in North Wales and the Gower Peninsular in South Wales are strongholds of the plant. Where it does occur, the plant is found on maritime cliffs, usually of limestone or chalk, typically growing on or near to cliff tops or cliff bases, often on ledges containing other mixed herb communities.

The Large White Pieris brassicae is a strong-flying butterfly. It is indeed large; males have a wingspan of up to 63mm & females of up to 70mm. Both have bright white wings with black tips to the forewings that extend down the wing edges. Females have two large black spots and a dash on both sides of each forewing that are absent from the upper surface of the males. The undersides are creamy-yellow.

In the British Isles the Large White is double brooded and females lay eggs any time from March to October. Most are laid during July and August when the numbers of resident butterflies may be increased significantly by migrants arriving from Europe. This also happens to coincide with maturing brassica crops.

Plants and insects have evolved together: plants needed butterflies for pollination and in return plants provided foliage for their caterpillars. The plants chosen as egg-laying sites by the Large White typically contain mustard oil glucosides, whose primary function when subsequently eaten by the larvae, is to make them distasteful to predators such as birds and protect them from attack. The preferred larval food plants are primarily various Crucifers, but they will also use Wild Mignonette and in parks and gardens Nasturtiums may be targeted.

August 26th

Back on the Little Orme to see if I could find Large White eggs and/or caterpillars on any of the plants around the bramble bush.

The butterflies avoid putting too many eggs on one plant to prevent the caterpillars running out of food and it took me a while to find an intact leaf that had an egg cluster beneath it. I only managed to find one caterpillar in a very early stage of its development, and as Small Whites also use the plants I can’t be sure which species it belongs to.

I finally found a well-grown Large White caterpillar on 10th September on a Wild cabbage leaf on an exposed part of the cliff directly overlooking the sea. It was a sunny day but with a chilly breeze and it wasn’t moving much. Clearly confident nothing would try to eat it.

The Butterfly’s Status as a Pest species

In the present day, areas such as Great Britain, P. brassicae are now less threatening as pests because of natural and chemical control reasons. However, it is still considered a pest in other European countries, in China, India, Nepal, and Russia.

The most susceptible crops to P. brassicae damage in areas in Europe include Brussels sprouts, cabbage, cauliflower, Kohlrabi, rape, swede, and turnip. The attacks to crops tend to be localised, but can lead to 100% crop loss in a certain area. In addition, because of its strong inclination to migrate, adults may infest new areas that were previously free from attack. It is estimated to cause over 40% yield loss annually on different crop vegetables in India and Turkey.

Did I mention the strong west wind that was pushing the rain clouds across the mountains towards us? Only once I’d left the shelter of the trees to continue upwards did I realise how strong it was, with sustained gusts forcing the long grasses and wildflowers to bend to its will.

The grassy edges of the lower summit are full of wildflowers. On the exposed side there is mostly Knapweed, with touches of Ragwort and a white umbellifer I think is Upright Hedge Parsley. There was more Red Bartsia, just one plant as far as I could see, but a better one to see properly than the one lower down. On the other side, sheltered by a belt of Blackthorn, the red berries of Lords and Ladies, Cuckoo Pint if you prefer or plain old Wild Arum.

Red Bartsia

Berries of Lords & Ladies

I didn’t take this exposed path to the summit today, but ‘turned left’ to continue into the sheltered hollow where I thought there may be more insect activity.

A wasp clung on to a lone Hogweed flowerhead swaying in the wind amidst a sea of waving long grass.

There was a sizeable patch of the umbellifer that may be Upright Hedge Parsley amongst dry long grass, but as I photographed the flower it was visited only by a single, quite faded Sun Flyhoverfly.

Upright Hedge Parsley

Sun fly-Helophilus pendulus (f)

There were a few Meadow Brown butterflies doing what they do – suddenly flying up in front of you from where they had been basking on the warm earth of the track and heading into the safety of the grass. There were a couple of Gatekeepers too, sheltering from the wind to bask low in the brambles. The one I photographed had a wing-tip missing; maybe a narrow escape from a predator, but such damage can be one of the hazards of territorial scraps and of frequenting thorny brambles.

Meadow Brown

Gatekeeper amongst brambles

And just for some colour, Rosebay willowherb, which I always think is quite out of context here, even if it does look pretty. Today at least it was giving nectar to a few little bumblebees.

From the summit the views are always spectacular and today you could clearly see the low clouds skimming the tops of the higher Carneddau mountains to the west and heading our way.

The effect on the seascape was strangely beautiful too. Looking to what is roughly the south-east across Colwyn Bay, the distant hills were obscured by a mist hazeand although the sea appears to be flat calm; the wind was rippling back the surface, giving it texture, while the moving clouds created dynamic areas of light and shade. Mesmerising.

Back to earth I headed across the hilltop to make my way back down the other side. Mushrooms continue to pop up from the short turf and are still being nibbled. I’ve done a bit of research and from their shape I think they are a species of Boletus. This one was encircled by another of my favourite wildflowers of late summer, the lovely and semi-parasitic Eyebright. There are two variations here – plants with flowers blotched wih purple and others the more usual white with yellow centres.

Further down the slope where Knapweed grows in the longer grass, there were a few nectaring insects. A Common Carder bumblebee, a male Red-tailed Bumblebee and a few hoverflies. There was also a badly-damaged Burnet moth that had somehow managed to haul itself up a flower stem to feed, despite having lost at least half of all of its wings.

Red-tailed bumblebee (male)

Syrphus sp hoverfly

Syrphus sp hoverfly

Common Carder bumblebee

Burnet moth badly damaged

As I reached the bottom of the hill I stopped by a patch of Hogweed growing right on the edge of the woodland. The clouds finally cleared the way for some sun to shine through, which encouraged out a little flush of hoverflies. There was a lovely fresh female Myathropa florea – mentioned in a previous post as having the memorable and distinguishing ‘batman logo’ marking on its thorax. It was extremely mobile, but clearly hungry and from a distance I managed to get some images showing it from several angles.

Myathropa florea face-on view

Myathropa florea from the side

Then a treat to end the walk – a petite and dainty hoverfly with black and white markings, another new-to-me species.

This insect was tiny, highly mobile and flying frequently between adjacent flowerheads, so my photo opportunities were few and some of the images I did get were a bit blurry. I’m not sure if its a Leucozona glaucia or similar looking Leucozona laternaria. My book tells me the former are ‘abundant’ in this part of the country and the latter more so here than further east.

If you are interested in finding out more about Eyebright, I have posted more info and pictures of it in my new blog which will be dedicated mostly to wild flora in their habitats, called, funnily enough ‘where the wildflowers are’.

Historically August can be quite a wet month and is statistically less likely to have long spells of sunny holiday weather than July. This August of 2016 is certainly following the trend.

August is the traditional month for the harvest in the British Isles, which is the reason it became the main school holiday month. In the past village children were recruited to help with the then labour-intensive process and the first general Education Acts drawn up in Victorian times, providing general primary education for all, took this into account. Even the youngest child could play a useful role in keeping the pigeons and crows away from the gleanings (spilt grains).

August 5th

Finally, this mid-afternoon, having waited patiently all day for an interval of more than half-an-hour without signs of imminent rain, I seized my moment and headed for the hill. Not confident the break in the rain would last long, I didn’t linger on the pathway up through the woods, only stopping to photograph a Sycamore leaf afflicted with Tar-Spot fungus …..

…. and those of a shrubby plant I don’t recognise, well-patterned by leaf mines.

A quick look over the fence on the wood’s edge didn’t look too promising; the Carneddau mountains to the west were veiled heavily by approaching rain clouds.

Incoming rain

I reached the Woodland Trail in record time for me, again stopping only briefly by the big bramble to note any activity on the late flush of newly-opening flowers. Just a male Tree bumblebee and a Meadow Brown butterfly. (It’s fairly easy to spot male bumblebees as they have no pollen baskets and no real purpose other than to eat to stay alive for as long as possible, so they don’t rush about like workers).

Tree Bumblebee (male)

Meadow Brown butterfly

I had reached the line of used-to-be-coppiced Hazels when the rain arrived. Fortunately the foliage of the tree canopy is so dense there that hardly a drop got through, so I was kept dry even minus a waterproof. The Hazels here produce few nuts; perhaps because they know their efforts will be squandered by Grey Squirrels; they take them while still green, have a quick nibble to reach the soft kernel inside, then cast them to the ground when they are done.

I waited until I could no longer hear rain on the tree leaves and carried on walking, noting how surprisingly green and fresh-looking the greenery was for this time of year.

However, despite the greenery there are sure signs that this summer is past its peak. In Adder’s Field the Burnet roses are bearing fruits; the hips already dark red although not yet as dark as they will become. The Wild onion flowers are coming to an end and they too are producing fruits; tiny bulbils which will sprout in situ, then drop to the ground and produce roots ready to grow into a new plant.

Hips of Burnet Rose

Flowers of Wild Onion

Fruits of Wild Onion are tiny bulbils

Stretched vertically between the rose stems was the tightly woven web-tent of a Nursery-web Spider. Peering down to its base I tracked down the weaver to where she was hiding, only some of her legs properly visible. These spiders are quite big and clumsy-looking yet produce such surprisingly fine web fabric; it’s like a piece of silk organza. (Arachnaphobes maybe scroll down quickly now!)

The Wild clematis, or Old-man’s Beard as it will become, is in flower too, another signaller of the slide into Autumn.

On the opposite side of the field the swathe of Hemp Agrimony is in full flower and after the rain, the warming sunshine was drawing out a crowd of insects, literally buzzing with excitement at the abundance of nectar and pollen on offer.

Again, takers were mostly male bumblebees with a few hoverflies and butterflies.

Bumblebee dusted with pollen

Eristalis sp hoverfly

Helophilus sp. hoverfly

Sightings of Gatekeeper butterflies were top of my wish-list for today. I had already seen a few flying about in the last few days, but was pleased to find my first photographable one of this year. Its tiny size was emphasized by the proximity of a large Red Admiral on a neighbouring flower.

Nearby, ragwort was also working to attract pollinators. A damaged 6-spot Burnet had taken respite on a flowerhead and was still there hours later when I passed it on my way home. There were more male bumblebees, hoverflies and a tiny black-and-white striped bee.

Damaged 6-spot Burnet

Male bombus praetorum

Small striped flower bee

At the top end of the field a patch of umbellifers – tall Hogweed amongst shorter Upright Hedge Parsley.

In previous years I have found a few stems of Red bartsia in flower amongst the long grass at this end of the field; this year there is a significantly larger patch of this interesting semi-parasitic plant.

Given a week or two to finish ripening, a good crop of berries on the Rowan tree should keep the blackbirds going for a while.

Break here to sit on my favourite rock (still slightly damp), have a drink of water, eat a peach and scribble down notes before heading up towards the summit.

The great bulk of the west face of the Great Orme rises steeply from the shore of the Irish Sea; its scarred and fissured face testament to centuries of the relentless onslaught of invading weather fronts. Glancing upwards from its base it looks intimidating, barren save for a few patches of eroded grass and seemingly hostile as habitat for anything save the odd nimble Kashmiri goat. However, as in the best tradition of myths, legends and fairystories, looks can be deceptive and here-upon, not too far away, lies a magical kingdom populated by tiny beautiful creatures.

The toll house on Marine Drive marks the beginning (or end) of the cliff path

The creatures take the form of butterflies. Two diverse species have evolved and adapted themselves to survival in this unlikely place and have been recognised and classified as ‘sub-species’. Both are ‘dwarf races’ and considered to be endemic to the site. One is a variant of the rare Silver-studded Blue, classified as Plejebus argus ssp. Caernensis and the other a variant of Hipparchia semele (Grayling), classified as (ssp.Thyone).

The ‘butterfly kingdom’ is accessed by following a narrow stony path along a ledge cut about a third of the way up the cliff, which is indicated on the photograph as a line of wire netting that both marks its edge and keeps in the goats. (I parked on Marine Drive and walked up to begin the path at the Toll House, but if you are coming down from the other direction, the other end is waymarked to your left.)

The day was sunny but windy, conditions which bring out the butterflies but often keeps them low to the ground or amongst long grass stems. I wasn’t expecting to start seeing the little Silver-studded Blues as easily as I did, but there on a patch of red valerian below the ‘dangerous cliffs’ sign I spotted my first ones. Most were looking rather worn and a bit tatty, but I was happy to see them at all.

First sight of a worn and battered individual

As I watched I spotted a pair coupled together who were then joined by two others with another fresher-looking male also heading their way. Unlike their cousins, the Common Blues, these smaller butterflies don’t zoom away at speed just as you’re about to press the shutter button, but flutter gently from place to place, tending not to fly any distance away. They seem to bask quite frequently.

The Silver-studded Blue gets its name from the light blue reflective scales found on the underside of most adults and which are quite visible when light reflects off them.

An enlarged view – a fresh female showing silvery scales mating with a rather worn male

The uppersides of males are a glorious blue with a dark border. Females’ uppersides are browner with a row of orange spots; in this sub-species they also have a variable flush of blue that extends over the hindwings and the base of the forewings. Undersides are brown-grey with black spots, a row of orange spots, and small greenish flecks on the outer margin. Males are similar to the Common Blue, which lacks greenish spots.

Silver-studded Blue (male) upperside

Male underside

Silver-studded Blue (female) upperside

Female underside

A less-worn female with orange spots on hindwing borders still visible

The Silver-studded Blue is a Priority BAP (Biodiversity Action Plan) species. Generally they are found in close-knit colonies, most containing less than a thousand adults. Here on the Orme numbers fluctuate but may rise to a thousand or more. Today I met a warden and an assistant on the path that were assessing current numbers – in one spot alone they had counted 130 individuals, so despite the recent inclement weather, they appear to be doing OK.

The number of Graylings I saw also took me by surprise as in other locations I’ve been delighted to come across the occasional one; along this path I encountered a good few patrolling the path. I’m always hesitant to give a number as I have no idea how many times I might have seen the same one as it circumnavigated a territory.

Hipparchia semele ssp. Thyone (Thompson, 1944)

H. semele ssp. Thyone flies earlier than is usual with other races of Grayling, being on the wing towards the third week in June, and disappearing by the end of July.

I am not practised enough to be able to recognise subtle differences between species & sub-species of butterflies and have no desire to catch any to compare them, so I have taken points from Mr Thompson’s comparisons:

Hipparchia semele ssp. Thyone

♂ Strikingly smaller than any other British race of semele. Coloration is more uniform than in typical semele, with the pale areas more ochreous. Forewing spots are smaller than in other races, with the lower of the two frequently absent. Underside coloration duller and less contrasting than in the type, with the white areas of hindwings tinged with ochre. ♀ Also smaller than other races. Spots are smaller than in normal specimens.

The special butterflies were not alone here. In a small sheltered quarried out area at the side of the track more red valerian was attracting some larger visitors. I was most thrilled to see a Small Tortoishell, only the second I’ve seen this year and the first to stay put long enough to photograph.

There was a Red Admiral there too, a few Meadow Browns and a single Dark Green Fritillary that was repeatedly chased away by Graylings.

Small Tortoishell

Red Admiral

Dark Green Fritillary

Grayling

Cinnabar Moth

Another first sighting for this year was a Cinnabar Moth. I was musing just the other day about why I rarely see the adult moths when the distinctive yellow and black caterpillars are so numerous at this time of year; perhaps they don’t over-winter well? It was tricky to get even this less-than-brilliant image as the poor thing was fighting against the wind trying to stay on the cliff edge.

Frothy sunshine-yellow Lady’s Bedstraw brightens the grass and on this warm sunny day scents the air with the delicate fragrance of fresh-cut hay.

Lady’s Bedstraw-Galium verum; Welsh-Briwydd felen

Flowering: June to September

Medieval legend has it that the Virgin Mary lay on a bed of Lady’s Bedstraw in the stable of the inn in Bethlehem, as the donkeys had eaten all the other fodder. It is from this legend that the common name for the plant was taken, and also led to the belief that a woman lying on Lady’s Bedstraw would have a safe and easy childbirth.

Lady’s Bedstraw is a plant of dry grassland, dry banks, downs and old established sand-dunes. On warm sunny days the air surrounding the frothy yellow flowerheads is deliciously fragranced with the scent of lightly perfumed fresh hay. Lady’s bedstraw is a food source for the huge Elephant hawk-moth caterpillar, then is favoured by the adult moths as a rich source of nectar. The migrant Humming-bird Hawk Moths are attracted to it too.

Lady’s Bedstraw was once one of the most useful of the meadow flowers; it was commonly used as a ‘strewing herb’, a natural form of air-freshening and for stuffing mattresses. In the north of England the yellow flowers were once used to curdle milk, giving rise to several associated names such as cheese rennet and cheese renning. The leaves and stems yield a yellow dye and the roots a red dye; it was said that when cattle feed on it, it reddens their bones.

Lady’s Bedstraw contains the chemical coumarin, used in the drug dicouramol, which will prevent the blood clotting. In herbal medicine it was claimed the herb was a remedy for for urinary diseases, epilepsy and gout.

Keeled garlic, whose flowers attract Common Blue butterflies and the long stand of Hemp Agrimony on the woodland edge are in bud.

Keeled Garlic

Hemp Agrimony

There are tiny acorns on the Oaks; stalked ones on the Pedunculate Oaks and tight-to-the-twig ones on the Sessile Oaks.

Stalked acorns of Pedunculate Oak

Unstalked acorns of Sessile Oak

Summit Cliffs

Up here on the near-summit rocky cliffs I spot a single lovely Grayling. It settles on a warmed rock close by and I manage to catch it before it folds away the orange markings on its upper wings.

Grayling –Hipparchia semele

I am fascinated by the butterfly’s cryptic camouflage, its ability to melt into the rocks it settles on to bask. If I take my eyes off it I have to wait until it flits off again to relocate it. Unless it lands on my shoe!

Eyebright with purple leaves

I was keen to get a good number of shots of this obliging subject, as in this location at least their appearances are not always predictable.This year I’ve had a few sightings, last year none at all. After a few minutes of following it from rock to rock I realised the butterfly had no immediate plans to go far, so I relaxed a little and sat for a while on a patch of grass.

There’s a whole other realm cuched down in these often- dry grassy-rocky areas. In the little patch where I chose to sit Common Milkwort was growing through Wild Thyme in a rocky crevice and nearby the tiny yellow dots of a creeping Hop Trefoil marked its presence, punctuated with taller purple-leaved Eyebright.

Wild thyme, Common milkwort & Hop trefoil

I spotted a bright yellow-green beetle scurrying through the vegetation, thinking this must appear to him to be a veritable jungle. I had wondered what Sulphur beetles got up to when not gorging on hogweed.

Sulphur beetle scurrying through the jungle of short grass and thatch

Downland slope

There were large mushroom-like fungi growing amongst the grass here. Many were clearly being eaten by something – voles, mice? Maybe even slugs or snails.

Then, further down the slope, the very thing I had been crossing my fingers hoping to see- a flash of orange that was a Dark Green Fritillary taking off vertically from a Common Orchid.

Dark Green Fritillary-Argynnis aglaja

There is a small colony of these lovely fritillaries here; the most I’ve ever seen at the same time in a season was 10-12. That year the Knapweed and Scabious they prefer to nectar on, were more fully in flower than now . Thus far I have seen only two at the same time. Today there was just the one. I hope there are a few more to come. The butterfly returned to nectar on one of a few Knapweed flowers fully opened. It shared the space with a chunky insect I am trying to find the identity of.

A thick-headed fly-Sicus ferrugineus

The fritillaries are large, fast flying and tricky to approach. Sensibly they have also based themselves within a particularly brambly, steep and uneven part of the hill that restricts access. That means grabbing images as and when you can – but I like that, it keeps them ‘real’, so you see the butterfly as I did – mostly through a grass curtain.

From the Fritillary patch to the bramble patch and sightings of Small Heath, a couple of Ringlets, a Large Skipper, Speckled Woods and hoverflies.

Ringlet-Aphantopus hyperantus

Ringlet

Small Heath

Pellucid Fly

Sun Fly or The Footballer

Sarcophagus or Flesh fly-

And to finish with a flourish, one of my favourite beetles, Strangalia maculata.